


Thunder Thighs

by occasionalfics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Harassment, Thunder Thighs, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:04:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalfics/pseuds/occasionalfics
Summary: You’re used to being judged for being big, but apparently that’s not a problem in Asgard like it is here in Midgard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted @ occasionalfics.tumblr.com on October 11th, 2017

“Look at the thunder thighs on this one!”

You rolled your eyes. Gotta be more creative you thought, moving away from the jackass at the high table.

You didn’t see the tall, beefy man across the room look up. You didn’t see his light eyes fall on you, nor the smirk that spread across his chiseled face. Your eyes were focused on the bar. You needed a drink in a room full of assholes.

Your friends had insisted on coming to this bar. They said the assholes were easy to pick and play, that they hardly ever had to pay for their own drinks in this place. Sure, for them maybe that was true. To the men in the room, your friends were just objects that they could embellish and fawn over and take back to their rooms at the end of the night.

You, on the other hand, were nothing but an invisible blockade. If you were around your friends, the guys couldn’t come. They wouldn’t get free drinks unless they approached the bar - alone - and you had thicker skin then they did. So you bit the bullet and went off, the undeniable sway of your hips almost distracting with so many meatheads around.

You sighed and stood at the bar, refusing to embarrass yourself further by trying to climb into one of the high chairs. All the people around would see was the jiggle of your thighs in your struggle. They’d say nothing, maybe chuckle, and pretend like you didn’t exist. But since you didn’t try, they just ignored your approach. The bartender even ignored you, which you thought was not a very good business model.

You were ready to leave, to call a cab and text your friends that you were going home, when someone pushed the chair next to you away and leaned on the bar. You didn’t look over, knowing it would just be another jackass. He’d make some comment about covering up the skin he didn’t like to see and you’d roll your eyes at him.

“Barkeep,” he called in a deep, vaguely British accent.

The bartender stopped. His eyes widened as he stared at this man, and his hands stopped cleaning glasses.

“I’d like a pint of your best pale ale and whatever this lady here would like,” he said, gesturing to you.

You saw his hands outstretched toward you, looking only at them. They were long, toned, and calloused but in that borderline attractive way you knew so many of your friends liked.

The bartender nodded to you.

“Glass of Merlot, please,” you said.

When the bartender turned away, you gave the man next to you a sidelong glance without looking at his face. It was always worse when you looked in their eyes and saw the hatred and mockery for someone they didn’t know.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, not sure he could hear you over the music.

He stood a lot taller than you. At least a foot and a half taller. You could see his shirt had short sleeves, so you could also see how huge his biceps were. What you didn’t see wash is smile when he said, “You’re most welcome.”

The glass of wine was placed before you suddenly but gently. You picked it up by the stem and took a gulp, shutting your eyes to the world as you did so.

The man next to you chuckled, but not in the same way you’d heard before. It seemed more curious than pretentious.

“What?” you asked, putting the wine glass against the bar again. This time, as you turned to look at him, you gasped. This wasn’t just some asshole you were talking to.

The God of Thunder had just bought you a drink.

“You seem closed off,” he said.

You didn’t know what to say at first, so you shrugged. Your jaw hung slack as you stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his smile never fading for a second. “I didn’t mean to be brash.”

You forced yourself to relax, turning back to your wine. You shook your head as you took a smaller sip, trying hard not to choke on it. When you put it down again, you turned fully to face the God of Thunder and said, “Most of the guys in here would’ve said something about how tight my dress is instead, so…”

He looks around the bar at the other patrons, then comes back to you. You note his lack of a once-over at your outfit.

“I thought heard someone earlier say something about thunder thighs,” he said.

Your face dropped. Of course. It always came back to the thunder thighs. You rolled your eyes, picked up your glass, and raised it once to him before walking away. You had the edge of the glass to your lips when you felt a hand on your wrist.

“I don’t think I meant it the way they did,” you heard him say before you could ready yourself with the glass pointed at his face.

You looked over your shoulder with furrowed brows. “It’s not actually nice here to buy a woman a drink and then insult her,” you said, trying to pull yourself away from him.

He wouldn’t let you go. You didn’t soften at his smile like you thought he expected. They all expected you to soften, to be okay with the taunting and the ill-fated attempts a flirting with the fat girl. Some of them felt bad for you. You didn’t know if the God of Thunder was one of them.

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ll admit I’m not familiar with the term. I heard thunder and…”

You stopped and felt your face loosen up. No man had ever admitted to liking thunder thighs, even in theory. And he still hadn’t looked at your body - just your face.

“It’s not a term of endearment,” you said, looking away from him.

His grip on your wrist loosened and you pulled yourself away from him. You nodded once, lowered the glass to your side, and sighed.

“Thank you again, God of Thunder,” you said before heading away.

He called out for you without knowing your name. You didn’t look back at him, but you did finish the wine. You left the glass on a table by the door before heading outside and past the door.

He’d been at least cordial, but the night was somehow worse than others. Any attention in a place like that wasn’t worth it, but…Thor? The whole thunder thigh thing really bothered you, and whether or not he knew what the term meant, it still sucked to hear. You pulled the hem of your dress down, trying to cover as much of your legs as possible. Suddenly you couldn’t bear to be seen like this.

The door to the building opened and out he came in all his tall, blond, sculpted glory. You’d seen him on TV, had heard so much about New Mexico and New York. You hadn’t been following him in particular, but he was always there with the Avengers. He was one of them. What was he doing in a small town like this, talking to a small girl like you?

He slowly approached you. You crossed your arms and refused to meet his gaze, but he came closer anyway, his hands in his pockets and head high.

“Where I’m from, thunder is a good thing,” he said.

You huffed. “Around here, it means assholes don’t really want to give you the time of day.”

“Is that…not a good thing, then?” he asked, curiosity lining his face.

You shrugged. “I guess. It’s still not a nice thing to say.”

He tilted his head toward one shoulder and said, “I don’t mean to sound cocky, but you know how I am, right?”

You glared at him, but only slightly. Just enough to let him know that his question was, in fact, cocky. “Not many people here that don’t,” you mumbled.

His smile widened. You couldn’t deny he was gorgeous, but you wanted to.

“I only ask because, you know, I’m the God of Thunder. You even said so before you left,” he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder toward the door.

“Well the guys you heard earlier using that term? They were shouting that at me because they think I’m not attractive, okay? God of Thunder or no, it’s not something they like.”

His smile turned into a smirk. “They’re wrong.”

You stared at him. How could you not? He was just like he was on TV - handsome beyond anyone else you’d seen in the bar, maybe beyond anyone you’d seen ever. And he was smirking at you. The Norse God of Thunder - a hero on Earth - was smirking at you. Your friends would keel over dead if they knew, and unless you brought him with you to prove it, they’d never take your word for it. They were as used to your invisibility or abuse as you were.

“You know,” he said, breaking your thought. “You never told me your name.”

There he went again, just like any other guy. You rolled your eyes, then watched his face fall a bit. “I guess it doesn’t matter if you’re a God or not - all guys are the same.” You huffed. “You all think women owe you something. I don’t owe you my name, God of Thunder.”

He nodded. “Didn’t think you did, honest,” he said, leaning a few centimeters closer to you. “I was just hoping you’d like for me to know it. You know, for conversation and such.”

Conversation? With a guy? At this bar? You could hardly believe what you were hearing. You were so used to guys nodding mindlessly at your friends just to try to get them to bed, so used to those same guys totally forgetting about your existence the second they saw someone you were with, that this was…totally foreign.

Then again, so was he.

“You know as much as I like being called God of Thunder, my name is Thor and it’s okay to call me that,” he said. Then he nodded, clearly wanting you to return the gesture.

You sighed. You may as well. At least he wasn’t treating you like a cloud he could push his way through to get to the sun. At least he was only asking for your name, not your life story. At least he seemed to like your thunder thighs, even as the rubbed together under the fabric of your dress.

“I’m (Y/N),” you said. You pushed hair behind your ear and held a hand out to him. “And I’m sorry I’m prickly. I don’t…”

He shook your hand and waited for you to respond. When you didn’t, he said, “Don’t?”

You gently pulled your hand back, just to have it in your own control again. “I don’t have the best luck at this place. My friends love it, but I always end up exactly where you found me. The guys here suck.”

“Why not go somewhere else, then?” he asked. “I assure you there are hundreds of bars between here and the city, much better establishments than this.”

You nodded. “A lot of them are expensive and far. It’s not so bad - if I feel like leaving early, at least a cab won’t cost me a fortune from here.”

He laughed, but didn’t say anything. His smile brightened the night the way lightning would.

“What?” you asked.

“Do you ever let yourself have a good time?” he asked.

You looked over his shoulder at the door. “On the occasion that we don’t come here, sure,” you said.

He eyed you carefully, not predatorily or with judgment in his eyes, but curiosity. You could see it in the single risen brow of his, the cockeyed and sure smirk. It was a look you’d seen one of your friend’s exes give them before they dated, when the guy had been interested in more than just sex with that friend. It wasn’t a look you could recall getting yourself, but you liked the way it made you feel. You were a mystery. You were someone the God of Thunder wanted to get to know, thunder thighs and all.

“(Y/N), I would like to take you to another bar. That is, if you’d like to go with me,” he said. “I guarantee you’ll have much more fun.”

You rose your eyebrows at him, and he shook his head.

“I’m not being cocky,” he said, throwing his hands up. “I just think you deserve to smile on a night out. Text your friends and tell them you met a dashing, chivalrous man that wants to make sure you enjoy yourself tonight.”

A part of you didn’t like his demanding word choice, but another part could see how genuine he was being. He still hadn’t glared at any part of your body. He hadn’t objectified you. He wanted to see you smile - the God of Thunder wanted to see you smile and enjoy yourself! You’d be a fool to turn him down and you knew it.

“Why?” you asked, less skeptical and more curious now.

He shrugged. “I like you.”

“You don’t know me,” you said, refraining from telling him you were just the fat girl from the small town with the hot friends.

Again, he shrugged. Too much shrugging, but it seemed so casual and normal that you let it slide. “I want to know you, if you want to know me. Because, despite with the Midgardians in there might think, I very much like people associated with thunder.” He winked.

You had to admit he was slick. He listened, for a start. He wasn’t focusing on your body, but you. He really wasn’t like the other Midgardians, as he’d called them.

You nodded and pulled your phone out of your purse. The group chat with your friends was the most recent conversation you’d had, so you went into the chat and told your friends almost exactly what he’d said to tell them. You kept the fact that you were going out with Thor to yourself. You allowed yourself to think that you wanted him privately - not because your friends wouldn’t believe you, but because he was almost too good to be true.

“Fine,” you said when you’d sent the message. “Woo me, Thor. Show me the best you’ve got.” You gave him a smirk of your own.

He bit his lip, wiggled his eyebrows, and pulled out a phone from his pocket. You couldn’t fight the heat in your lower abdomen and the surprise of seeing him with the phone at the same time. Knowing he could only see one, the surprise, you did your best to focus on hiding that one.

“I don’t think I mentioned that I also like a challenge,” he said.


	2. Thunder Thighs, 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while since you’ve seen the God of Thunder, but you can’t stop thinking about him. Too bad you have no way of contacting him…until one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted @ occasionalfics.tumblr.com on January 29th, 2018

You didn’t think the God of Thunder would remember you. You had one night together, barhopping, dancing, kissing, touching. It was a good night - the best night you’d had, maybe ever - but it was just _one night._ He went home with your phone number even though you weren’t sure he had a phone, and you went home with one picture of you two at a metropolitan bar. It was one of those pictures where the flash had to be used, so you’re both a little blown out. You’re leaning on a table, sharing a drink between the two of you - some lager he’d suggested that tasted exactly like wheat in the glass but so much better on his tongue. The picture captured you with a huge smile, him with a comfortable and gorgeous smirk. It would live forever in your Cloud, but it was all you had, outside of your memories, to remember that night.

It was also the only thing you had that proved the night happened. No one believed you when you told them you spent the night with Thor. An Avenger? In this town? With _you?_ No one listened until you pulled out your phone and shoved the picture in their faces. Some people still refused to believe it; they insisted you’d photoshopped the picture, as if you had magical image editing powers to speak of.

When the excitement of the night wore off, when no one asked about the picture or for details anymore, life went back to normal. You went out with your friends, occasionally got hit on, but mostly dealt with assholes that didn’t like the curvature of your body. The difference was that now you had the knowledge that someone out there did like your thighs. That someone also happened to be a God, so what were these mortal douche bags worth at all?

The problem became that the mortals that did seem to like your body, or at least tolerated it, weren’t really better. They were average. They weren’t the God of Thunder, who’d been better to you than most other people had ever been. He was kind. He was caring. He was gorgeous, funny, and didn’t judge you based on the jiggle of your thighs. He touched you softly, kissed you expertly, and danced so close to you that you still felt his heat against you sometimes.

Months went by. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since that night, and you were starting to think you never would. You were resigned to sitting in that crappy bar, wasting time as the bartender ignored you, praying that someone half as good as Thor would come by to make you happy.

You were ready to go home one night when someone stopped you on your walk out of the bar. Your heart leapt for a moment as you imagined, or rather hoped, that it was Thor. But when you turned around, you faced a short man with dark hair and eyes.

“Hey baby,” he said with a smirk. “That dress is a little tight, don’t you think?”

You pulled your arm from his grasp and sneered at him. “I didn’t ask you,” you said, turning on your heel.

“Hey baby!” he called as you headed for the door. “I like the way that ass claps as you walk away from me, baby!”

You went faster, reaching for the handle of the door before he could continue shouting at you. When the door shut behind you and you’d put your back against the brick of the building, you took a deep breath and shut your eyes. _Don’t cry_ you told yourself. _That asshole doesn’t deserve your tears._

You tried to pull yourself together, standing straight and adjusting the hem of your dress until you were comfortable enough to pull your phone out of your purse. You went to call an Lyft when you heard a hearty chuckle that made your heart skip a beat. You looked up and searched for the source of the laugh, but realized it was just some guy across the street. He looked like he could fit the description of Thor, but he had less hair and an eyepatch. _Couldn’t be_ you thought, going back to your phone.

You didn’t notice the guy across the street as he came toward you. You heard him, but you barely paid attention to what he said. You sighed and watched the little cars in the Lyft app move around. They’d all be taking a while to get to you, so you were stuck for the time being, but you knew if you went back inside, that asshole from before would be ready with more insults.

Then you heard someone call your name. His accent made you look up and hold your breath for a beat. There he was, the God of Thunder. He _did_ have an eyepatch, and his hair was shorter, but it was him. His one blue eye was as clear as the Atlantic, and his smile was bright enough to blind you if you looked too long.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Hi,” you said, locking your phone before putting it in your purse. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” he said, throwing his arms out. “I was hoping to see you again, actually.”

You didn’t believe him. It’d been so long, you’d half-convinced yourself it’d all been a dream. He hadn’t even sent a letter or…or something! Anything! He couldn’t have been thinking about you all this time, right? You were just some Earth girl he picked up because he got an ego boost when someone likened your thighs to his thunder. You weren’t like that other Earth girl he dated…the scientist with a Nobel Prize or something. You weren’t Asguardian or a billionaire philanthropist or anything. You were just a fat girl from a small town.

“Right,” you said, trying to smile but knowing you failed, especially when his face fell too.

“You…don’t believe me?” he asked. “Or do you not recognize me? I know the eyepatch is new-”

“And the hair,” you said.

He settled into a smirk. “And the hair, unfortunately.” He rubbed a hand over his scalp, pushing back hair that sprung right back into place as his fingers passed over it.

“I kinda like it,” you said despite yourself. “The long hair was nice, too, but this…it’s different. In a good way.”

He nodded and chuckled, then dropped his arms. His one eye stayed on yours, even ask you asked, “So what happened? To…all of this?” You gestured to his face, unconsciously taking a step toward him.

“Oh, you know,” he said. “Found out I have another sibling who’s sole purpose was to remind me exactly how terrible our father was.”

You felt your face drop. “So there’s more than the green guy with the dark hair?”

“Loki,” he said. “And yes. Or there was, anyway. She may have taken my eye, but that’s all she got out of me.”

“And the hair?” you asked, crossing your arms in jest.

“Ah,” he said. “Evil sister sent me to a planet run by a man that refers to himself as the Grandmaster. He’s a nice piece of work, running a gladiator ring from the center of his garbage planet.”

“He…cut your hair…to make you fight?” you asked.

His eyes narrowed, but then he nodded. “Sounds about right. Just another day in the life of the God of Thunder,” he said.

You took a minute to stare at him, then you let out a deep laugh, leaning forward to catch your breath. When you calmed, you stood straight again and said, “Some life, huh?”

He shrugged. “Could be worse, I suppose. I could be dead. I’m pretty sure I should be on about seven different accounts, and yet, I’m here.”

You nodded. “You’re here.” You bit your lip without thinking about it and took anther step toward him. He didn’t move back. In fact, it looked like he relaxed. His smirk turned into a genuine smile as you crossed your arms across your midsection.

And then a thought occurred to you. “Where you waiting for me to come out of the bar from across the street?”

Bubbly joy filled his face as he laughed, and you laughed, too. You couldn’t _not_ laugh with him.

“How pathetic would you think I was if I said yes?” he asked.

You laughed harder, covering your mouth with your hand. You shook your head and, still holding your hand up, you told him, “Not at all.”

“Your laughing suggests otherwise,” he said. You swore he winked at you, but you couldn’t be absolutely positive. It happened so quickly, if it happened at all.

“No, really,” you said. You took a deep breath to steady yourself, dropped your hand, and closed even more of the space between you. You could barely feel his warmth from this short distance now. “I think it’s…kinda cute, actually. If I didn’t know you, I’d think it was creepy, but I do.”

“And I knew that, eventually, you’d come out here. That saved me the trouble of having to punch every arsehole in there that said something about your thunder thighs, as if they were a curse instead of a gift.” You were one hundred percent positive he wiggled his eyebrows at you then. Of course he did. He complimented you and boosted his own ego at the same time, earning another laugh from you.

“You know,” you said, “when you say it, it’s not so bad.”

“Thunder thighs?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Of course not. I’m the God-”

“Of Thunder. I know.” You bit your lip again, wishing he would ask you to leave with him already. He said he’d come out here to see you, so what was he waiting for? If he liked your last rendezvous as much as you did, he should’ve whisked you away already, right? You weren’t just imagining that he was stalling, right?

You cleared your throat, which cleared your head. When you met his eye again, you asked, “You wanna go grab a drink? Somewhere else?”

He took a second, and immediately your brain went to of course he doesn’t. _He’s probably just here to say goodbye forever, to tell you he got married, too, or something equally night-ruining._ But then his smile grew, and he turned to face the road, putting his arm bent out for you to take. “Thought you’d never ask.”

\--

You went to one restaurant, actually. Your favorite restaurant. You brought Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, to your favorite restaurant in the middle of the night for a drink - which turned out to be mostly beer - and a burger. He’d said he was hungry, so you figured why not? You both had two drinks before finishing the food, and then he walked you back to your apartment building. It wasn’t too far, but far enough to keep you talking.

“You really didn’t come all the way across Space for me, right?” you asked. “Seems like a long way to go for one person.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t. Not entirely, I mean.” He tipped his head toward you. “Midgard’s an easy target for some reason. The Avengers needed me.” He stood straight and faced forward, then waited until you’d taken a few more steps before smirking. “But still, I did want to see you. We had a lot of fun the last time.”

You never looked away from him. “You’ve been thinking about me since then?” you asked, unsure of whether or not you really wanted to know. But two drinks in and your mouth moved faster than your brain. Surely, you figured, the God of Thunder wouldn’t have kept you on his mind that long. You reminded yourself, again, that you were just an Earth Girl. You had big thighs, cellulite, and a bad attitude in the wrong situations. He saw most of that, and yet he still came back.

“I have,” he said, looking at his shoes. You thought you saw a blush creep into his muscular neck. “Is it presumptuous of me to believe you’ve also been thinking of me this long?”

You smiled at him and swayed closer to his side, grabbing his hand without hesitation. His warm fingers intertwined with yours, and he held you tightly against him.

“Maybe a little, but, I mean, you’re a literal God. And an Avenger. It’s hard to forget someone like that.”

You saw his face fall just enough to make you regret your statement. He slowed until he stopped, and you came around to face him, but you never let go of his hand.

“Is that all you remember of me?” he asked, his face lined with both curiosity and pain. It amazed you how much he said with one eye to gaze at you with, how much he saw with just half of his vision. You liked him all the more for it.

You shook your head. “Of course not, Thor.” You made sure to use his name, rather than his title. You remembered him from the last time, telling you that it was okay, that he actually kind of preferred it. “More than anything I remember what you said…how you made me feel…” You couldn’t quite finish your sentence, hating how the words sounded as they spilled from your mouth.

He closed the space between you, and you sighed at his warmth. He was always so warm and big and comfortable. It made you feel small and delicate in a way that no one else could. Sometimes it was nice to not be the fat girl that everyone expected to be strong _despite_ her size. Sometimes it was unforgettable, the way the feeling sat on your brain and made you light and cared for.

“I told you Thunder Thighs isn’t a nice thing around here. But you…you made it a nice thing, you know?” you asked, slowly looking from a vein along the side of his neck up to his eye. “How could I forget the person that makes that a nice thing?”

He looked at you for a moment, his iris seeming to blow out with focus or heat. Maybe both. You didn’t care and didn’t have too much time to contemplate; he leaned forward and brought you to him, putting his lips on yours so softly you almost missed it. For someone so massive, he was so gentle with you. When he pulled back, you craved more of him, and even went so far as to lean toward him as he moved back. He smiled, so you smiled, and then you turned around and carted him behind you down the block.

You didn’t care if you never saw him again. Okay, you cared a little. A lot. That wasn’t the point. You weren’t mad at him or anything. Quite the opposite, actually. You were, for once, totally happy, and you tried to tell yourself that, should he disappear again, this time for good, at least you would have these two nights to remember him by.

And you were determined to make the most of this night. He seemed into it, laughing behind you as you sped around the corner and onto your block. You hurried up the steps to your building, fished your key out of your purse as his hands moved to your hips, and giggled when his rough, short beard grazed your neck.

“I love that sound,” he said, mouth still against your skin, as you opened the door to the building. More purposefully, he pressed his lips into the nape of your neck and you nearly jumped at the sensation, letting out a high pitched yelp that was immediately followed by another fit of laughter. He laughed, too, following you down the hall and up two flights of stairs as fast as you could make yourself go.

You had an easier time getting your apartment door open. You didn’t bother flicking on the light; there was a streetlight directly outside your living room that lit your couch, and that was more immediately important than anything else. You shoved your feet out of your shoes, then turned and pulled Thor to the couch. At the last second, you pivoted the both of you and pushed so he sat first, and you put one leg on either side of his and looked down on him.

He was magnificent, just the way you remembered. “I don’t know if I mentioned this earlier,” you said, whispering with how quiet the apartment was. “But the eyepatch is kinda sexy.”

His cheeks turned up into a smirk, and he wiggled both eyebrows at you. His hands moved from your hips to the hem of your dress, and yours went to his chiseled pectorals. You couldn’t fathom how he was so perfect until you remembered that he was a literal God, and suddenly you felt like light itself. You couldn’t really describe what it felt like on the inside, but the mental image appealed to you the longer you thought: _I’m straddling a God._

He slowly, gently brought the bottom of your dress up and over your ass. You bit your lip and pressed your forehead against his. His fingers left your dress around your waist, sliding down to your thighs before gripping on tight. You gasped and shut your eyes, and he pushed forward to kiss your jaw.

“I still have trouble seeing why these,” he said, giving your thighs each a nice squeeze, “are unattractive to Midgardian men. These _thunder thighs_ are worthy of things beyond their comprehension.”

You could only imagine what he meant by that. Every possibility turned you on, surging heat all over your body before it pooled between your legs. You forced your eyes open to look into his, and you tried to dignify yourself by slowing your breathing. But his fingers dug in deeper, and you gasped again. You sensed a mischievous flame in his gaze and smile and decided to match it by lowering your body against him and grinding up. His jaw went slack and he let out a groan that rumbled deep in his chest, shaking your fingers through his shirt.

“Oh yeah?” you asked. “Like what?”

Swiftly, and with ease, he pulled you around until you were beneath him, your back against the seats of the couch, his devilish smirk hovering inches above you. “You really want to know?” he asked.

Your breath caught as you nodded. 

He went slowly, starting with little kisses along your neck, moving gently to your chest. You’d forgotten the way your breasts laid against your chest when you faced up like this, and you became acutely aware of how much of them were falling out the top of your bra. You cursed gravity in your head, but neither of you said anything. He barely even seemed to notice as he moved further and further down.

When he gripped your waist, just below where the bottom of your dress had been rolled up to, he paused and looked up at you. “May I?” he asked, all seriousness in his face. You couldn’t tell if it was because of his question or his task, but you didn’t care.

“We need an Asgardian president,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “You may. Thank you for asking.”

He pushed up, sliding his fingers under your dress. You shivered and let out a heavier breath than you remembered taking in.

“Consent is customary where I’m from,” he said. “Is it not here?”

You hesitated to roll your eyes, knowing you didn’t want him to take the gesture the wrong way. You shook your head instead. “Unfortunately not. You’d think it was, but it’s not.” Your voice broke at the end, and immediately his hands stopped. “Hey,” you said, reaching down with intent to guide him further.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, holding tighter to your side, a stubborn but caring glance filling his eye.

You leaned up enough to kiss him quickly, and when you fell back again you said, “I’d tell you if I wasn’t. Promise.”

That satisfied him. He nodded, then went back to work on the dress. You lifted your arms over your head and reminded yourself to keep breathing as he pushed the material up and off of you.

His gaze never left yours, but you still felt exposed. You still had a hard time believing that you were almost completely naked on your couch with the God of Thunder. An Avenger. A hero.

Thor.

Thor, who’d bought you a drink because he associated himself with your thighs. Thor, who kept reminding you that he actually liked you, and that he liked your thighs just the way they were. Thor, who had something to prove, or maybe just wanted to prove to you that your thunder thighs really were something special. Or maybe it was you.

It had to be you, right? He wouldn’t have come back, stood across the street at that same bar, and gone off with you if _you_ hadn’t had something to do with that, right?

You blushed because you couldn’t stop your body from heating up. You didn’t know if you wanted to, honestly. You watched as Thor sat back into a crouch and threw off his shirt. His eye stayed on yours the whole time.

You pushed your hair out from under your neck, then rested your arms beneath your head, bent at the elbows.

“Midgardian men must be blind. I have one eye and I can see how glorious you are,” he said, leaning forward, putting his arms around you on the couch to hold himself over you.

When he kissed you next, you swore you felt electricity flowing between you. Your whole body tingled and warmed, and you knew in no time you’d be ready for him. He knew all the right things to say, all the right moves to make. He was so unlike the guys at that bar that you could hardly remember anything but Thor.

He didn’t trail this time. He pulled back from you and stood, and you felt your eyes widen in confusion. You half expected him to leave, or to take a picture and run or something. Something awful. But it wasn’t based on his actions, and you knew it, so you banished the thought to the back of your mind. He held a large hand to you, and you took it without hesitation. When you stood, he moved his arm to the back of your waist, then slid the other behind your knees and picked you up. You yelled out, but only a short, silly yell that earned a laugh from him in return as you put your arms around his neck.

He went down the hall, then stopped between the two bedrooms of the apartment. “You have a living companion?” he asked.

You nodded. “My roommate’s still at the bar. This one’s my room,” you said, pointing with your toes to the room on the right.

He smoothly opened the door without letting go of you, and when he had you both inside your dark room, he shut it just as quickly. You turned on the dim lamp beside your bed, then scooted back to your headboard as he followed. 

With your head back on your pillows and him hovering over you again, you smiled at him. You couldn’t stop yourself, not that you wanted to. He was so gentle, so nice, so…unlike anyone you could remember being with. That was why you let him loop his fingers under the band of your panties. It was why you lifted your hips off the bed as he pulled them down, then relaxed as he brought them over your knees. When the garment was gone, you sighed and removed your bra.

He moved back to the end of the bed and placed himself between your bent legs. His hands wrapped around your thighs again, and he finally looked away from your face to turn his head and trail kisses down one thigh, then the other. His hands worked the ample flesh from the outside, massaging as he got closer to where you needed him to touch you more and more. Heat continued to pool there, and soon enough you knew you were dripping wet and ready for him.

You moaned - loudly - when his lips moved to your lower ones. He worked around your folds with his tongue, sucking at the juices that’d already poured from you. Your hands went to his short hair and gently massaged his scalp, which he seemed to like enough to moan against you. He moved up a bit, focusing on your clit as your breathing became uneven and your noises got louder. The electricity in your veins ignited your whole body, causing you to grind beneath him, wanting more even as he continued.

Without warning, but not unwanted, he inserted a finger into you. Your toes curled and your moans got louder, even more so as he moved the finger in and out a little bit at a time. You pushed against the bed, arching your back as goose bumps rose all along your body.

One of his hands stayed on one of your thighs, keeping your leg stretched out. His other…more occupied hand flexed, and then he inserted a second finger into you. You ground against him as your walls expanded slowly. You felt him push against you as his tongue worked circles around your clit, and when you felt yourself coming closer and closer to the edge, your eyes shot open.

He was watching you, but only through blue streaks of light that took over his eye and crawled along his upper body. You cried out, half turned on by the sight and half scared. But you reminded yourself that this was Thor. Of course he light up like that. He was a God - the God of Thunder and, apparently, lightning.

Before you could think about it, you were smiling down at him, which he took as a sign of encouragement. He spread his fingers wider, pushing against you as you came closer to your climax. You automatically pushed harder toward him, loving everything he did to you.

Somehow he managed to get a third finger inside, but it proved to be too much. Your moans turned to awkward cries before you told him it didn’t feel good, and then he stopped. He looked at you, this time without the lightning, and removed one finger.

“I apologize,” he said, suddenly serious again.

“Well don’t stop,” you said quietly, still trying to catch your breath. “What you were doing before…I liked _that._ ”

He nodded, and slowly his smile reformed. But he didn’t waste too much time, going right back to work to build up momentum once more. It didn’t take too long before you felt a tightness in your lower half. He kept going, and soon enough you clenched around his fingers, waves of euphoria washing over your body. You ground your hips against his face and hand as you rode out your orgasm, slowing to a stop gradually.

When you calmed down considerably, Thor kissed his way back up your thigh. He focused on one as he pulled his fingers out of you, stopping his lips just south of your knee. “You asked what I thought you deserved with thighs like these,” he said, his voice rough and spent. “ _That._ More than that, really, but it’s a start.”

You chuckled at him and covered your face as you felt a blush run its way up your neck. You were still flushed from coming, but his words only made the heat in your upper body heavier.

He didn’t like that. He pushed himself away from your legs, then moved up the bed until he lay beside you. He pulled your hands away from your face and brought your arms around his neck. You couldn’t stop smiling, partially from your orgasm and partially from the look he was giving you: like you were as magnificent as he was. You didn’t believe it, but…you had to be, right? He chose you, you thought again.

You pressed yourself close to him, finally feeling the warmth of his chest against yours. He brought your face to his and kissed you, and you moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue. It wasn’t quite the taste of lager, but that didn’t matter then.

When you pulled back, you pushed gently against his chest. “You have too much on,” you said, hurrying to the waistband of his pants. Those were off in no time, and his briefs followed shortly after. You were surprised at the rather…Earth-like garment, but then you asked yourself what you were expecting. Bloomers? On someone that looked like _him?_ You stifled a laugh with his lips.

You reached over him to your bedside table without disconnecting. He leaned back in response, and when you had a condom in hand, you threw one of your legs across his abdomen. His member was hard and nearly pulsing beneath you, and you bit your lip when his hands went right back to your thighs.

“Comfy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he smiled.

You slid back and said, “I will be.” You wrapped your fingers around his cock as far as they’d go, shivered as he gasped, and smirked. He was thicker than you’d expected, but you didn’t let that stop you from stroking up and down his shaft a few times. You leaned forward and took his head in your mouth, and he let out a loud, short groan, and then another as you ran your tongue under the hood. You teased him for a bit, enjoying the noises he made and the way he jumped whenever you touched some new part of him.

But there was only so much you could do before you wanted more of _him._ You pulled yourself off of him with a pop of your lips, then opened the condom and slid it onto him carefully. When the wrapper had been pushed onto the floor, you scooted forward along him until your entrance hovered just above his erection.

“You’re sure about this, right?” he asked once more.

You blushed, smiled, and nodded. “It’s really cute that you care so much,” you said just before you lowered yourself onto him. You took him in slowly, as he filled you easily. 

He urged you on with his groans and the strokes he placed along your thighs. You took more of him in, pushing up and falling down in a lazy rhythm. When you wanted more, you got it. He left you in control, even as you put your hands against his chest to create more friction. You moved faster against him, pushing more of him in and out of you to build tension. When you pressed your lips to his, his hands went to your ass, squeezing lightly as you ground against him. It wasn’t long before heat spread through your body and the familiar tightness gathered in your core.

You both got louder as you climbed to your peaks. His hands roamed your body, but always came back to your thighs. He clapped against them once or twice, just enough to watch them jiggle against his sides. You hardly noticed. You kept going faster, harder, until you felt yourself clench around him.

“Oh my god!” you moaned against his shoulder, your fingers digging into his pectorals. You were sure he was glad you kept short nails.

He laughed, but then he kissed a sensitive part of your neck and you felt yourself come undone above him. Pleasure filled your body as you shook and moaned, and you felt him come just as you were starting to relax against his chest. He gave a few hard thrusts, then relaxed himself.

When you caught your breath, you lifted your head and furrowed your brow at him. “What was that laugh for?” you asked.

His eye was half-lidded as he chuckled again. “You said _my god,_ ” he whispered, his chest still pounding beneath your hands.

You scoffed, but rolled your eyes and smiled at him. “Not everything is about your divinity,” you teased, pressing your lips to his.

“Oh really?” he asked between sweet pecks.

You gave a throaty _mhm,_ then ran your tongue along his teeth.

“What else are things about, then?” he asked after pulling back enough to speak.

Through a smirk you said, “Thunder thighs.”


End file.
